Madge Undersee

Hope was a curse.

A leash that led Madge down dark alleys and wistful garden paths only to strangle her. A lie. She'd hoped for a life at the other end of the trainride out of District 12, only to get a prison. She'd hoped for Colton's advances to cease, that he'd understand her terse replies and frightful pleas to stop - only for it to get worse. Hope led her to lean, foolishly into Cassia's lips - thinking she felt the same way, only to have her heart broken. The sight of each woman dressing by her bed after each fling was laced with ill-fated hope that someone would feel something other than a momentary rush of pleasure. Hope was that bridge in her memories that led to nowhere - no matter how many books she read or piano scores she played. It'd all been dashed to pieces and never failed to let her down. Still a blank, darkened slate that stretched to infinity.

In short, hope was a sodden lie.

There was only grit and kindness and her wits about her. No hoping for a future beyond what she could see with her two grey eyes.

Including this: tickets to a concert that had something hopeful written on it besides the seat number and the name which had haunted her dreams. No, no - Madge reminded herself, there's no hoping anything would come out of this. No hope those fingers linked within hers meant anything beyond polite friendship. No hope those lips were ones that would kiss her back. She fought against that rising tide of hope and crammed the tickets into a fist. Probably burn it in the hearth later to prevent herself giving into her weakness. And tomorrow evening, she was headed to the Panty Pantry and drinking a belly full of posca and picking up the most gorgeous woman she could find and forgetting this Katniss Everdeen ever set foot on her doorstep.

She held the crumpled tickets in her shaking fist, watching Katniss trot toward the street corner. Madge's heart canted towards her one last time in the hope that she'd turn around. Just so that she could see her eyes again. When she didn't, Madge took it as one more confirmation that hoping was useless.

The sunshine beat down on Madge's head as she stood there in a daze. She knew Cassia was watching her; concerned glances each time she'd lapse into of of her staring fits. Blank mind held slack-loose like a dangling rope in an attempt to bring the memories back. None came. Only the rumble of a statecar to the curb signalling the arrival of the Housing Board. Elderly Capitolite lady with a mink coat despite the mild weather. The woman took care to lavish the entirety of Madge's townhouse first. Before laying her swooping gaze on the girl. Madge curtsied, deep. Stepping back when the lady approached with ice in her eyes.

"Ma'am," Madge greeted, unsure if she should extend a hand, "I'm Madge Undersee."

"Agatha," she looked over Madge's shoulder, a feat given her short stature, "inside, shall we?"

She followed Agatha inside. Watching the way she stood at the entranceway and appraised the low ceilings of her house, no - her home, and tapped a heel on the floorboards. Madge suddenly felt like an intruder in her own home. Her mood further tensed when Agatha sauntered over to an armchair and plonked herself down like she owned it.

"You aren't going to have a visitor and not serve her tea, are you?"

The curt language made her bristle. Cassia was upstairs putting down the baby for a nap. She shook off the slight and poured Madam Agatha a cup of tea. None for herself.

"Floral," Agatha sipped her tea, "I don't suppose you've drank tea like this in District 12."

Salvia officinalis - Madge knew the name by heart. Along with many plant names she'd learned from botanical encyclopedias.

"We did."

"It's lovely - but I don't think most of us will have a taste for anything coming out of the districts," Agatha observed, "tea, clothes, food - even the people."

Her nerves knotted tight. Don't they know everything they have is because of the Districts?

"It's not to everyone's taste, ma'am."

"Indeed - though I do wonder whether it's entirely within your taste to come all the way here just to run an unlicensed bookstore and childcare in a beautiful neighbourhood."

Madge's voice hardened, "I've just received our business license from the bureau - the red tape has been slow because of staff shortages. And our childcare license will be here in a week. I've received my own personal license and Cassia will be getting hers soon."

"Interesting, you've got all your bases covered then," Agatha tapped her knee, "even the dubious manner with which you've come to possess this house."

"My family owned this house," Madge wore a poker-face, ice-cold and unforgiving, "Mr Argent has updated the-"

"Now now - I'm not calling your ownership of the property into question," Agatha shot with a croaky Capitol trill, "no need to get flustered."

"I'm deeply concerned that the housing board will violate the rights of the Districts to settle where they please. These laws were-"

"-put in place for a reason, but you'll see that I'm not concerned about that," Agatha countered, "rather - I'm already two steps ahead of you, darling. The housing board is not opposed to District Settlement in the Capitol, rather they are readying themselves for it."

Madge opened her mouth to argue, before catching herself, "You - wait - they are?"

"Yes, I'm going to cut to the chase, Miss Undersee. I don't have much time for banter with you," Agatha leant forward, "the housing board wants your house. Along with the rest of this neighbourhood. We're planning to construct a row of high-density flats to accommodate the expected new immigrants."

"And let me guess," Madge met her stare, unwavering, "your son's construction firm is the appointed developer? Your husband's Estate Trust will have the controlling stake in this venture and become landlords collecting rent on the District peasants looking for a better life?"

Agatha froze and narrowed her glare. Briefly looking away and muttering, "Like it or not, Miss Undersee - you're handing this house over to us. The board is willing to pay you a fair price for it-"

"Fair price?" Madge scoffed, "I know what you would pay to turn a healthy profit for your family."

"-I'm throwing you a bone, Undersee. Don't make us bring the bulldozers. There won't be any house left to sell, let alone books."

Madge leapt up in livid frustration, right as Agatha slowly rose with upturned hands.

"You'd expect me to believe the Crenshaw family - backbone of the Capitol's building industry," Madge seethed, "would tarnish their reputation just to earn a quick buck?"

"The only good thing about President Snow being gone and all this mess - it's now easier to ask for forgiveness than permission."

"What do you get out of trampling me underfoot? Your family has plenty of neighbourhoods to redevelop without resorting to mine-"

"Look at it this way, sweetheart - I'm giving you an opportunity to go back to wherever you came from," Agatha started for the door, "maybe not as a rich woman, oh no, but at least you won't be leaving in rags. You're a smart girl."

Madge clutched her throbbing head, "I'd like you to leave, ma'am. And I don't want you back here."

"Oh, I won't," Agatha paused at the steps, "but I can't say for certain the bulldozers won't."

"You-"

The door slammed with the tinkling bell. Madge slumped back into the chair, head in hands. Even Mr Pain looked upon her with pity - knowing there were worse things in life than a headache. In the windowpane's reflection, Agatha's Statecar rumbled off, leaving Madge alone with Cassia. Brows furrowed and a napping baby on her shoulder.

"What was that about?" Cassia whispered, "We're not getting evicted, are we?"

"No, we aren't-" Madge answered. Right before she caught herself mid-sentence. Hoping it wouldn't happen. Just like the tickets still-crumpled on the seat.

Because there was no way anything good could come from hoping, would there?